


A.G.R.A.

by notjustmom



Series: Doodahs and Whatnots [35]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Episode: s04e01 The Six Thatchers, F/M, Missing Scene, Slightly Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 07:04:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15189413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: After Sherlock finds the second AGRA stick and before he confronts Mary...





	A.G.R.A.

"He used to work with Mary..." Sherlock grabbed his coat and scarf, walked slowly down the seventeen steps and caught a cab to the Watsons' flat across town.

John opened the door quietly. "I just got her down. Finally." He looked at Sherlock and nearly reached up to touch the bruise that was just about to bloom along his jawline, but stopped himself in time. "If you're looking for Mary, she's out, said she needed some air."

"I'm not here for Mary." Sherlock pulled the ARGA stick from his pocket and held it out to his friend. "I'm sorry, John."

"But. I -"

"I know. I thought it was about the pearl. I thought he was chasing a fucking pearl. I didn't think, didn't even consider the possibility it was about Mary."

"You've always held a soft spot for her." John muttered. He took the stick out of Sherlock's hand and glared at it. "I still don't understand it, never have. I know you can delete things - but she fucking shot you, she killed you," he whispered, but the anger and frustration was plain in his voice. "And don't, just don't tell me it's for my benefit."

"Of course it's for you. It was my fault. All my fault."

"No. NOPE. Not right now." John's fingers wrapped tightly around the stick and he winced as the metal edges bit into his palm. "I could destroy it. She'll never know about it."

"You do know what it means, John. Even if -"

John rolled his eyes and hissed at him. "Yes, of course I know what it means. She lied again. She always lies, I don't think she is capable of telling the truth. It means AGRA isn't her fucking initials, it means there are four, or at least were four of them. And now one of them is after her, meaning there will be collateral damage again, because of her. It's never going to end, is it?"

"We can -"

"We can - what? I need a drink. No. Actually. That's the last thing I need. We need to see what's on it. 'Bout time, don't you think?" He went to his desk, and opened his laptop, then carefully slid in the memory stick and waited. He hadn't written anything in weeks, he just now realised, as a list of files, seemed to be hundreds of them, appeared on the screen. He clicked one at random, and saw a photo of Mary, a passport, different name, hair colour, eye colour - whatever her name really was, he knew he would never know for sure, even if she told him. He wouldn't ever know what the truth was. Sherlock hovered at his shoulder and sighed, heavily.

"There were four of them - agents, these are their backstories - locations of where to find passports and papers, weapons - if she gets her hands on this - she'll.."

"Go after whoever it is who is after this stick. So, we let her."

"John."

"We stick a tracker on it, then you give it back to her, letting her know you know what's on it, and if she asks for your help, fine. But, you know the probabilities of her doing that. Slim to zip." He pulled out the stick and placed it back in Sherlock's hand. "Thank you for telling me, you could've -"

"No. I couldn't have. I swore. I made a vow."

"Sherlock. If it was hard before, when we thought she was just a - whatever we thought she was - now we know there's at least one more after her, and going from the damage to your face, and knuckles, he's not a fan of Mary's - did you ice it? No, of course you didn't - come 'ere. You have time for an ice pack. I know it doesn't matter what I say, but I've never held you to it, that vow of yours. I know you meant it, still mean it. This will sting for a moment." He pressed the ice pack to Sherlock's cheekbone and closed his eyes as Sherlock's fingers wrapped around his wrist. "I never apologised."

"For what? What could you possibly have to -" His words trailed off as his hand dropped and turned away from John.

"For marrying her. For not knowing - not knowing you weren't really dead. I should've known."

"John. Don't. It couldn't matter less to -"

"Then you nearly left again, left me again."

"Please -"

"Intended to kill yourself on the fucking jet -"

"I thought. I thought -" Sherlock leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, and John realised it was the only thing holding him up. "I would never see you again. I would have been dead in six months anyway. But, I thought if you had Mary, a family - what happened to me wouldn't matter, and you'd be happy. Eventually you would forget I ever existed."

"God. You're an idiot. No. I'm an idiot. We've both been idiots."

"I have to go - I'll send her a text, have her meet me at the leaning tomb, just in case, you'll know where - thank you for the ice. I am sorry, John."

"Yeah. So am I." Sherlock turned to look at him and began to move toward him, but stopped as they both heard Rosie start to fuss over the baby monitor. "See you later."

"Right."

Sherlock let himself out of the flat and looked skyward, just as the rains started to fall. He snorted and pulled his collar up, then pulled out his phone.

 

Need to meet. Leaning Tomb. One hour. Come alone. There has been a development in the case.

 

He figured that would be enough to get her there. Now, he needed to get a tracker on the stick - damn. He worked his jaw to keep it from locking up. Some paracetamol, maybe a drink. You're getting too old for this shit.


End file.
